


9:22 pm

by stellaar



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Break Up, Break Up Talk, Established Relationship, F/M, Heavy Angst, Post-Time Skip, Pro Volleyball Player Oikawa Tooru, Unhealthy Relationships, argentina oiks, chock full of angst, did i write this instead of starting my history project that is due in three days? yes, no comfort here luv, will I do this again? also yes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-11-21
Packaged: 2021-03-09 20:54:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27612374
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellaar/pseuds/stellaar
Summary: say everything's gonna be alright but i think it's fair to say we tried
Relationships: Oikawa Tooru/Reader
Kudos: 12





	9:22 pm

**Author's Note:**

> tw for v v brief mention of blood and arguing 
> 
> heavily and when i say heavily, i mean _heavily_ , inspired by leon's song, falling apart [here](https://youtu.be/8cWxI7ow3x0)  
> (her whole discography is so good, I can't--)

You could feel the stark coldness of the kitchen floor through your jeans and your thin cotton socks. He hovered over you, on his knees, obscuring most of the kitchen light from your figure. 

It was an argument about dishes. One of those stupid arguments about nothing and it wasn’t the first. Something about you washing the dishes when he said he would, how he never cleaned them well enough and how come the _goddamn_ dishwasher was never unloaded but somehow it spiraled into something else. About how the only thing you seemed to do was work. How this crummy apartment was only supposed to be temporary -- he just needed a little more time to prove himself at San Juan, he would say -- and he’ll be stable, _promise_. How he gave up his citizenship without telling you and how you seemed a little too close to comfort with one of your co-workers, Kaito or whatever his fucking name was. It always went that way. Something minuscule used as a cover for something seething deep down.

And the next thing you knew there was shouting and the soapy water from the sink splashing onto the floor and a ceramic bowl breaking and a long cut on the palm of your hand. You hissed, holding your hand close to you, and you both stopped. 

He bandaged your hand, the first aid kit lying next to you open, and you stared at his chest. Your legs were tucked beneath you and aside from the rustling of alcohol wipe wrappings and bandage peels and the traffic outside those big glass windows, it was silent. You had grown too comfortable with the silence, really.

This wasn’t how you expected your night to go but you weren’t surprised. It had become a routine at this point -- fighting, pretending it never happened and then fighting again. It was a cycle. 

You had stopped visiting him in Argentina. You weren’t on a break, you just -- just needed some space. Some space to breathe and to run free for a while but you’d come back. You always did. That was what you told yourself but this time was a bit harder than the others. And you didn’t say it but he knew and you knew he knew. He knew that you had to almost will yourself to come to Argentina, that you took a heavy sigh of resignation when you bought that plane ticket like maybe this was what your life had come to.

You weren’t going to go, if you were being honest. You were planning on bailing last minute but you came home late from work one day, tired and sick of an office job that drained the life out of you, and you took a look around your apartment and you saw how weaved your lives were. A photo of you two as baby-faced college freshmen hung on the refrigerator by a red circular magnet. You felt the edge of the photo glide against your fingertips and it almost cut you. You saw the years pass by and you wondered how you could put seven years down the drain. It scared you, wondering if you were living life wrong but wondering even more what it was like to be all on your own. You weren’t the same person you were but maybe they were still buried deep down somewhere in you, _right?_ That had to count for something. But maybe that wasn’t good enough. You know that now.

“I don’t want to lie to you.” You murmured. 

His eyes flitted up to your face. He stilled his motions, your hand still in his. He looked at you curiously and the corners of his mouth pointed downward. He thinks this is the most certain and sincere he’s seen you in two years. You weren’t unsure anymore. 

Hesitantly, you met his eyes. You couldn’t remember the last time he looked at you like he wanted to. He looked tired, like the years have worn him down, and maybe that was your fault. There was something in his eyes and it scared you. A lot of things did.

“We can’t go on like this anymore.” You whispered.

**Author's Note:**

> i've been wanting to write for oikawa for a while but every time i did, it never turned out the way i wanted it to. i'd always start off writing this long-winded fic and be disappointed with the flow and characterization -- it just never felt right -- so i tried my hand at something shorter. 
> 
> i've also haven't had the energy to write much, even tho i have almost a dozen wip ideas so imthought writing something short and simple would help get the juices flowing again. 
> 
> i'm a bit worried that all my writing is starting to sound the same bc it's revolving around the same topic and is all angst, no fluff but the next one is a fluff piece! so hopefully my worries will be assuaged. me writing fluff? ik i never thought it was possible either.
> 
> as always, i hope you enjoyed it. please stay safe and take care! remember to wear your masks! <3


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